…as they say, must come to an end.
I have never written a chicken obituary/memorial before, but I figured that I owe one to this particular bird. The other day, as we were coming home, Jason spotted a familiar chicken that we all know and love….in the middle of the road. Quite flat, actually. I am glad I did not see it.
It was not THE Wayward Jones, but rather her sister, who apparently, even though she was warned of the dangers of hitchhiking and living loosely, still ventured too close to the road. I COULD mention the age-old joke here…but out of respect, I won’t theorize why the chicken crossed the road. Actually, now I suppose we’ll never know. Anyway, Ms. Jones was interred September 17th, 2010. Casseroles, chicken scratch, and donations to P.A.R.C. (Persons Against Runaway Chickens) will be accepted.
In other news, it is finally cooling down enough that I have made progress around the farm. Tonight, we have been working on adding a top to the chicken yard. A couple of weeks ago, I found the headless body of one of my barred Rock hens, which is indicative of a raccoon murder. Let me say here that I do not like raccoons. Sure, they may look all cute and fuzzy, what with their little people-like hands, thick fluffy coat, and ringed tail. But behind their mask lies a cold-blooded serial killer. Let’s not mince words here. I won’t go into detail about what I would like to do to the ‘coon, lest you think I am just a cruel person. So, to avoid further bloodshed, particularly for the ‘coon, we are putting a ‘lid’ on the outdoor run out of wire.
I have been lazy in my garden. I haven’t pulled weeds in weeks and haven’t really cared to. Jason made the comment the other day, “Nice bed of Bermuda you’re growing here.” I couldn’t argue. If I were TRYING to grow Bermuda, it couldn’t have looked much better than the thick, jungle carpet that has now dominated my old lettuce patch. BUT, now is the time to plant, so I hope to take new pics and show you what will be in store for winter. I am planning on having a really kick-butt winter garden this year, mainly by really utilizing row covers and my chenilles.
In farmhouse news, it’s really nothing new. Please, please, please, if you do repairs on your house, have them (or do them) professionally. And for crying out loud, please don’t use the cheapest parts you can buy. Our poor heat pump/blower was apparently brought over on the Ark, and probably the same model used by the ancient Egyptians. Ok, maybe those time periods don’t coincide. Whatever, you get the picture. Our kitchen faucet is leaky, the kitchen sink is made out of white plastic (what masochist picked THAT out???) and the supposedly new septic tank is overflowing. Not complaining, just venting. Anyhoo, it boils down to I am about to have to spend a good chunk o’ change to have a new heatpump installed, so that we don’t freeze to death this year. I mean, last year, our house was at 58 degrees. I’m sorry, but I don’t care to live in a meat locker. Thank the Good Lord for all my quilts. I looked like some sort of strange chrysalis all winter last year, wrapped in about 14 quilts, along with thermal underwear, a full set of clothes and 2 layers of socks. I didn’t go anywhere without my throng of quilts. THIS YEAR (I’m pulling a total Scarlett O’Hara here), with God as my witness, I will not freeze again! We are going to insulate the house. I hope they blow 5 feet of insulation in the attic. I want so much insulation, it is scraping the rafters. I want so much that it is spilling out of every vent and pore of this house. I can’t say enough about good insulation.
I think I will end my post here. Hopefully, next go ’round I will have some sort of interesting pictures for you all.
My Little Country 